the slacker chose a mate. Marta, maybe? Nah, Erik merely wanted his cousin behaving, not afraid to touch a female again. The lout’s current offspring, what did Galen call him? Einar? Yes, with the clear family resemblance, the little halfling would make a perfect ward, snatched up early before his sire corrupted him.
Having the added benefit of a former human and a pack to guide him, the child very well could be the one to ensure the forest people’s survival.
“Think the villager would go for it?” Erik asked, rubbing his chin.
“You’ll have to see to it that he does,” replied the seer.
You do that, Erik’s wolf agreed.
Chapter Four
If he’d known Erik would question him so, Jarl might have devised a different poem, perhaps reducing it to say, “Join with whomever the seer says.” How could he have known the clan would pick apart the words, analyzing every single one? Too late for second thoughts now.
He tracked the click, click, click of Erik’s boot heels, holding his breath and fighting the need for derogatory comments. Wrong direction. The retreating footsteps stopped, followed by the indecisive tapping of a single boot, softer now, just the toe, then the tapping grew louder, Erik returning to the great hall. He huffed, “I meant to do that,” under his breath in passing.
Counting to ten, the seer waited. Heavier footsteps than Erik’s echoed off the stone walls of the passageway.
“Well?” a familiar baritone asked.
“So far, so good,” Jarl replied. “Even Erik couldn’t bungle this.”
Lady Eydis chuckled, a rich, throaty sound. “Never underestimate the bungling powers of my nephew. He’s quite accomplished, you know.”
Old Jarl nodded his agreement. “Aye, that I do know full well.”
A rustle of stiff taffeta and the scent of lavender grew closer. “Tell me. Do you really think this villager is the one, or do we make proper use of what’s at hand?”
“That is to be seen, my lady. However, I sense that, once they put aside their stubbornness, the two do share an attraction. The fact that young Galen obtained wolf form from a single night in Erik’s company…” He scrunched his lips tightly together, quelling a laugh. Had the two even allowed enough time for a proper conversation before getting down to business? Still, the young did tend to act on impulse, leading to many surprise joinings.
Yes, the pack could use more outsiders in their midst, particularly healthy and handsome ones like the people proclaimed the latest addition to be. And the human selected to fulfill “the prophecy” had been hand-picked by the village witch. From what Jarl had seen so far, she’d chosen well, even if unforeseen circumstances prompted the lad’s arriving a bit earlier than expected. Erik needed to pull his head from his arse and get a move on in claiming his mate; rumors swirled of a growing list of challengers. Jarl never doubted who the winner would be; thick-headedness aside, Erik’s leadership position came from more than an accident of birth. No more masterful or exemplary leader existed. The man just needed a reason to start believing in himself.
And now to set Erik on that path and avert an internal pack struggle. The people faced enemies aplenty without fighting amongst themselves. Which is why Jarl had set the wheels into motion to resolve the issue of succession once and for all.
“If I were you,” he advised his ally, “I’d prepare to step down as Alpha Bitch.” He pronounced the title deliberately. How Eydis hated the label, but she dared not correct an elder. Losing the title alone provided reason enough for the lady’s cooperation in his schemes.
“Gladly,” she replied, somewhat breathily. Did visions of a joining feast now waltz in her head? “I suppose, in that case, a suitable wardrobe is required. Did you see… Sorry, of course you didn’t. Did you smell those awful, threadbare clothes Erik’s mate wore upon his arrival? The poor lad reeks of humans!” She retreated down the corridor, muttering about silk, satin, and what colors would bring out Galen’s eyes.
Leaving Eydis to deal with details, Jarl reentered the hall to enjoy the day’s entertainment—the courtship of the inept, and a possible opportunity to save Erik from his own blunders.
Galen trembled, more from rage than from fear or cold, though he currently battled those as well. The forest folk didn’t seem to notice his nakedness beneath the fine woolen blanket, never batting an eye at his bare legs protruding beneath the edges. Standing before the tavern seemed inconsequential compared to this. In